


Unconditional Love

by sailorkittycat



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Animals, Blood, Comfort, Gen, Hurt, Magical Creatures, Pining, failed romance, still in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorkittycat/pseuds/sailorkittycat
Summary: Newt still loves Leta and it shows





	

**Author's Note:**

> I want to know more about Leta and her relationship with Newt, so naturally I wrote a one shot about it. It's pretty angsty stuff so turn up 'my heart will go on' and grab some tissues because I'm going there.

It was chaos in the briefcase. The usually peaceful conglomeration of magical creatures were running rampant, annoyed that Newt hadn’t been down to see them yet. They growled and barked and scratched, but each effort was only ignored and they had instead taken to making as much noise as possible. It earned them a few words from Newt at a time, mostly telling them to ‘settle down’ and to ‘please behave’. It didn’t take much longer for Newt to finally come down, scolding each one of them as he surveyed the damage they had done.

“You’ve all been perfectly exasperating” Newt shouted, waving his wand to conjure the spilled oats back into the fallen buckets.

“I hope you’re all pleased” he said, scowling as he herded each magical creature back to their habitat. The Demiguise turned invisible immediately, slinking back to his bed in shame. The Erumpent trotted back, head hung low in the African plains. Even the Mooncalves, who were normally too shy to participate in such a riot, whined out of guilt and tried to nudge their heads against Newt as a sort of apology. Newt pressed his lips together and refused to answer their cries, even though his heart was already softening.  
He was silent from then on, tending quietly to the creatures as he continued to clean up their mess. Food was strewn all over the floors, carpeting the ground with an odd pattern that reminded Newt of divination classes at Hogwarts. His lips twitched with a smile at the memories of peering into his partner’s cup, trying to see something amongst the mess of tea leaves. Needless to say it wasn’t his favourite subject; in fact his reason for choosing the class had nothing to do with the interest in the subject…  
Herbology had been more interesting, and Newt had excitedly read up on plants like the Fanged Geranium or the Venomous Tentacula. Of course, he was then disappointed when he found out that he would only get to study them in his sixth year. He didn’t even make it to sixth year after the ‘incident’ in Care of Magical Creatures, which really wasn’t his fault all things considered.

  
As Newt placed the branch of Bowtruckles back on their tree he contemplated on Hogwarts and his time there. Despite being expelled before he could graduate he still had a few fond memories that he held close to his heart. He always knew he wanted to specialise in magical creatures but he did owe Hogwarts a thing or two for nurturing his interest and talent (minus the part where they kicked him out for it). Still, he sighed, retiring to the shed where he kept most of his extra supplies. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be?

  
“You lot got your paws everywhere didn’t you?” Newt said, mostly to himself as he looked at the mess they had created. It wasn’t as though the shed had been an entirely neat place to begin with, but there was method to Newt’s madness and he had designated a place to everything, even if it didn’t look that way at first. He stepped in, waving his wand at the collection of gardening tools which turned out to be useful for a multitude of reasons besides gardening. The trowel went back in its place, as did its companions the dragon hide gloves, and the pruner. The wheel from the broken wheelbarrow was abandoned on the side with a set of teeth marks now decorating it. Pages lay strewn on the floor, each being completely unrelated from the other.  
Newt stepped more and more into the shed, raising his wand as each of the items laid itself tidily on the wooden surface of his desk. It was all starting to come back together again, albeit much more neatly organised than it previously was but Newt was sure to have it back to his ‘organised mess’ in no time at all.

  
The crack of glass beneath his shoe caught his surprise however, and he lowered his wand tucking it back into his pocket. He moved back a little, crouching down to see what it was to step on. He wondered if it had been his vial of Flobberworm mucus and sighed internally at the thought of the stain it would leave. What he saw instead made him wish that he would see a blemish instead.

  
Newt tried to swallow so as to alleviate the dryness of his throat but it remained drier than a desert. He stood deathly still for a few moments, feeling an odd concoction of nausea and despair take root in his stomach before seeping into his bones. He meant to bend down and pick up the broken picture frame but his body didn’t allow him to stand up again, and he began to feel dizzier than ever. The floor was his only solace now. He landed with a soft thump, not really registering the dull ache from landing so ungracefully. With shaking hands he gently picked up the picture frame. It had broken in two and the glass was shattered but he continued to cradle it in his hands.  
She didn’t seem to notice what had happened. Her eternal smile haunted him; her lips being brought up at the ends was something he had often obsessed over. How effortless her mouth was when she smiled. How soft and sweet and inviting. He could hardly remember the feeling now of her lips on his. The memory of it had been played so many times in his head that it ceased sound and image, now all he could recall was the hot blush in his cheek, and the tart taste of her lips, and the feeling of his heart thumping against his ribcage. A phantom kiss. That was all it was now.

  
His eyes traced her own. Dark, thick eyelashes that fluttered in a way that could only be associated with her; a mannerism that always managed to make him melt even before he had really spoken to her. Some odd, half-forgotten memory of her gifting him with butterfly kisses on his cheek made him shiver despite the sweat that had gathered under his fringe. Her eyes were the most understanding things he had ever encountered. They would always land on him softly, coaxing him to look at her and when he did he was under his spell almost immediately. Rich, velvet brown that soon became his favourite colour; he could still remember the exact shade vividly because he never came across it again and he mourned every day since.

  
His fingertip traced the curls of her hair. Her family’s trait had always been thick, dark hair which she had often complained bitterly about, while he had marvelled at it. It was always soft and always in her way. She had explicitly stated several times that she was going to cut it all off only to meet with Newt’s quick disagreement of the idea. He loved the way she’d weave flowers in her hair when they’d bunk class to sit at the edge of the forbidden forest. She looked ethereal, like some kind of princess.  
The picture didn’t do her beauty justice and he gripped the picture tighter, which only caused the glass to cut itself into his hand and blood to trickle down his arm. She continued to smile and Newt continued to obsess. The way her nose would scrunch up when he told a lame joke, or the way the sun would make her skin go from brown to amber when the light caught it, or how she’d slip her hand in his. Her soft breaths, her delicate wrists, her singing, her head tilting to one side, her bare knees, her periwinkle dress, her quiet promises to him in the dark. The list kept growing longer and longer, and it took a long time before Newt realised that he weeping. The tears wouldn’t stop streaking down his face, and neither would the sobs. What was the point of trying to stop? It wasn’t as though he’d ever stop loving her. This single fact sat like a weight on Newt’s chest restricting his breathing, and intensifying the ache that fuelled the tears. It was an endless cycle that served no other purpose but that of misery. Happiness seemed like a smaller and smaller possibility in his life the longer he was away from her. Isolation was all he had now.  
Newt hadn’t noticed Picket’s squeaks until he felt him trembling on his bloodied hand, trying to remove the glass one shard at a time.

  
“What’re you doing?” Newt’s voice sounded hoarse and tired as he watched with confusion as the Bowtruckle attempted to grapple a jagged splinter of glass “stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” Newt moved his hand to his shoulder, trying to encourage Picket to climb upon it but the creature refused, instead letting out a yelp that was louder than Newt anticipated.

  
They were no sooner joined by the Murtlap, who crawled onto Newt’s lap and pressed its tentacles to Newt’s cuts, making him hiss as the Murtlap essence spread over the wounds instantly healing them. The once gruesome wounds were thin scars now, and Newt knew that because of the Murtlap essence the scars would fade by the next day. The Puffskein tumbled into the shed next, trying to snuggle against Newt’s side. The custard coloured ball of fur whined like a neglected dog until Newt softly stroked it. It expressed it’s delight with a lick on Newt’s arm which made him smile, and the Puffskein hum in pleasure of delighting its master. The others trickled in one at a time, the Salamander, The Occamy, the Chimaera… Each one curling up around Newt like some kind of patchwork blanket of magical creatures. Even Niffler who couldn’t be parted with his gold shyly offered Newt one of his coins, which Newt accepted gratefully with newfound tears in his eyes.  
He got up carefully considering all the creatures that clung to him, and placed the picture face down on his desk. Yes, he still loved her but at least his animals loved him back.


End file.
